Buonanotte
by LovelyToMeetYou
Summary: Spain would always say goodnight to him in Italian. That went on for many decades, but Romano still could remember the first day when it happened. Spamano.


_**Title:**__ Buonanotte_

_**Rating:**__ K+_

_**Character(s)/Pairing(s):**__ Spamano: SpainxRomano and family!SpainxChibimano, appearances from Italy while the Bad Touch Trio and Germany are mentioned._

_**Summary:**__Spain would always say goodnight to him in Italian. That went on for many decades, but Romano still could remember the first day when it happened. Spamano._

_**Author's Notes:**__My first attempt at Spamano._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own this series in any way. Hetalia belongs to Himaruya._

* * *

><p>"And that's how boss saved that big tomatoes field! Am I not incredible, Romano?" Spain would tell him another one of his own stories and, as always, he'd wait for words of admiration that would never come.<p>

Romano was once again frowning and Spain simply smiled back. The little Italian's eyes were slowly closing, even while frowning, as Spain got up and adjusted the blankets. Before leaving the room, he lowered down, kissed Romano's cheek and whispered softly.

"Buonanotte, mi querido Roma."

.

Every night, after a short story and insistent kisses on the forehead, Spain would always say the same thing next to Romano's ear and then smile sweetly before closing the door and leaving the little Italian to his dreams. Spain would always say goodnight to him _in Italian_. That went on for many, many decades, but Romano still could remember the first day when it happened.

.

"And that's how I beat my annoying little brother in our hunt for colonies."

As usual, Spain misunderstood another of Romano's foul moods.

"Ah, don't frown, Romano! You aren't a colony at all, just my vassal state! And you're my favorite one of all, but don't tell anyone, cierto?" He winked at the flustered little boy.

Romano, trying to hide his blush as best as possible, pulled Spain's sleeves before his caretaker left the room and stared at him in a way he hoped would be intimidating. That never worked, though, because it seemed anything – absolutely _anything_ – that Romano would do Spain would immediately love. Grinning widely, Spain went back and sat in the bed.

"What is it, Roma? Would you like another goodnight kiss?" He asked with the most carefree grin possible.

As an initial response, Romano blushed madly, and then frowned. "Don't call me Roma, it sounds like my nonno."

"So? Don't you want to be called like something that reminds you of your abuelo?"

"No."

"Why"

"Because I don't want to, stupid Spain! Stop bothering me!"

"But you were the one who asked me to stay."

Romano weakly denied it, because he knew that was true, just for the sake of denying.

"Hey, Romano, would you -"

.

The merry singing of the birds outside woke him up for a rather pleasant dream, which _did not_ involve him and Spain in any way, thank you very much. Before Romano could even sit up, the door was violently swung open by a happier Italian.

"Fratello, you're awake! That's so rare! Did you fall out of bed?" His brother asked in a sincere tone, which only angered Romano more, and the frown was all the warning possible before a pillow was thrown in his direction before the door was closed once more.

"Fratello, you can't do this! It isn't polite at all! Big brother France said-"

"The hell I care what that pervert said!" Romano shouted back. He didn't need to hear France's name as the first thing in the morning, damnit.

"But he is coming to visit, with big brothers Prussia and Spain as well!"

What.

"Big brother Spain is coming too, isn't that nice, fratello? And so is Germany, ve!" The muffled voice came from outside the door. Feliciano seemed to understand that if he opened the door, another pillow would surely be thrown.

"Ugh, why do we have to see them so early in the morning?" Romano asked while flopping down on the bed.

His brother chuckled lightly behind the door. "It isn't early at all! It's already 11pm!"

"That is early in the morning. Well, at least when you're on vacation. Glad that sucker of a boss finally understood where I was going in the last meeting."

"You almost spit in him, fratello."

"My point exactly."

Feliciano sighed – now that was something rare – and moved away from the door. "They are coming for lunch, so please be up by then, fratello. I'm going to start cooking pasta, ve!" And with that he was gone.

Sleep wouldn't be the best choice for him now, Romano thought. But then again, it's not like any of those demented nations were high priorities and he did spend the last hours of the night writing reports back to his secretary due to his lack of discipline and later slept only for five hours. He deserved a little more time of sleep at least. The previous lazy sensation returned to his limbs and the birds' singing was the perfect lullaby for him. Funny how he often slept better when he heard those silly stories and those Hispanic songs. Spain ruined sleep time for him, it seemed.

During the last step before entering the dreams' world once more, Romano thought he heard that same soft tune from centuries ago. No, that was just silly.

.

When he woke up again his room was covered in an orange light and the birds had long stopped singing. He sighed and turned his head a bit to the right to see the clock: six in the afternoon. Now Feliciano would never stop annoying him. Romano growled and turned back, appreciating the softness of his pillow and the sweet scent of tomatoes, combined with something else… something that reminded him of Spain. Wait, wasn't Spain coming? But it was already noon! Romano opened his eyes and quickly moved to sit up when he felt something over his chest. Turning to his left, he only saw one thing.

Spain was there, sleeping right next to Romano with that stupid carefree grin of his.

Any thought Romano had before of leaving the bed was now gone, and the same went for his initial urge to throw the other nation out of bed. With a sigh – not loud enough to avoid waking Spain – Romano lied down again and just stared at his ex-caretaker's face. Even after all this centuries, Spain hadn't changed. Or actually, he did, but one would only be able to notice that through the power of observation and memory – which Romano did not possess regarding Spain, obviously.

Spain looked the same, with those chocolate brown locks or hair and that goofy smile he had, even while sleeping, completed by those beautiful brilliant green eyes that weren't currently visible. The centuries changed him only in the inside. That egotistical, and sometimes even cruel, pirate Spain was long gone and Romano had conflicting feelings about it. The current Spain was much more pacific and kinder than that Spain, but he also seemed to resent some things; things that Romano would probably never understand because of how young he was – and still is.

But in the end, there was nothing to doubt.

He loved Spain. No matter how the green-eyed nation would be, Romano had always loved him. When he was little, Spain had been his caretaker, but more than that… He actually cared about Romano. Even though his brother was always the most favored and cutest, and the amount of time Spain spent flattering him was unhealthy, Romano didn't feel so obscured when he was with Spain. That affection, always present in those shiny green eyes, always seemed to be only for Romano. Of course, Spain had other nations and affairs to take care, but he always made time to visit Romano at the end of the day or to at least go to visit him the first thing after arriving from a very long trip. Even though Romano didn't show it, he always deeply appreciated it. He always thought that when he actually spoke everything he felt, he would burst into tears and be unable to control himself. Sometimes he felt too much to be normal, to be safe, and Spain always made him feel like that. Watching said nation peacefully sleeping tranquilized Romano greatly, even though his heart continued to beat faster for different reasons, and the Italian nation himself was at peace.

The room was now completely dark and Romano could faintly hear sounds coming from downstairs, laughter and loud drunk shouts – no doubt Spain's stupid friends and the potato head. He didn't feel the slightest wish to sit up and go down stairs, not when he was resting so peacefully besides Spain, but he had responsibilities: finish that report, send those drunk bastards home and scold his brother. That was hard work.

Romano sat up slowly and walked softly over the carpet so as to not wake the sleeping nation. From those slight bags under his eyes, Spain also seemed to need time to sleep. As Romano stopped at the door, however, he remembered he had to do one thing first. Returning to the bed, still in careful steps, he watched Spain sleeping peacefully and let himself smile.

Leaning over the sleeping nation, he wondered if it was okay to steal a kiss, since Spain admitted he had done so – although he disturbingly never said exactly when – but chose not to. If he wanted to give Spain a kiss, the oblivious nation should be awake to finally understand those implications. His words were soft spoken and very quiet, so as to not wake Spain.

"Buonanotte, mi querido España."

As a response, Spain smiled foolishly and turned to one side – of course he was not holding an old toy of Romano, because the Italian did not have any toys - still sleeping deeply. With a smile of satisfaction, the Italian left the older nation sleeping and closed the door quietly, walking in the direction of the shouts and quickly morphing his face back into a frown. His smiles were for special occasions only and now he had some annoying nations to deal with. Spain should be able to sleep as much as he wanted – or rather, needed – and Romano would be there when the green-eyed nation woke up. He owned him at least this much after so many restless nights when he was a child.

He started to remember the night where the tradition started, with those vivid details imprinted in his mind.

.

The green-eyed nation watched him curiously, with a hint of a curiosity in his eyes and he sat down once more.

"I don't like you calling me Roma." That same phrase was repeated again, with the same following question.

"Because it reminds you of your abuelo?" Followed by an unpredictable one. "Do you hate him, Romano?"

Romano visibly stiffened at that question and didn't say anything, in hopes that Spain would change the subject. With just one look at his caretaker's eyes, however, Romano knew that wouldn't be the case. Whenever Spain was serious about something he would have his answer, regardless of others' opinions and the young nation had to admit he respected that immensely.

"No." His following words were just a whisper. "I don't hate him, I just… I just… He- He always spent all day with Feliciano, painting and talking about art and all of those things I was always terrible at and at night they'd cook together and I'd just be there, setting the table or standing somewhere and-" God, he was now choking on the words and starting to sob. Spain must think he was pathetic. "I was always lonely and he never paid attention to me but- but at night, before we went to sleep, he would always say goodbye to me first and that felt like the only time he knew I was there and it was nice and- and now he isn't here anymore. And-" The next words were nearly inaudible with the sniffs and tears falling down his face, despite his efforts to hold himself together. "And I miss him."

His strong façade – or at least that of a young nation with strong attitude – was all gone and he would never earn respect again. He expected Spain to do many things: to scold him for crying, compare him to his brother, declare he would no longer keep him or overall, just be ashamed of Romano. But Spain did none of those things. Instead, he only held the little nation and Romano felt the fabric in his shoulder become humid. Was Spain crying?

When both of them calmed down, Spain looked him in the eyes again and Romano had his answer: yes, he had. Without any warning, Romano started crying again, but for a completely different reason. Spain actually cried _for him_, he actually cared. No one had ever done that for him, the stupid older Italy, incapable of doing anything. Before Spain freaked out, Romano managed to explain the reason of his new round of tears, between choked sobs. As a response, Spain hugged him again and patted his back, and Romano continued to cry. After a couple of minutes, they were both in silence, as if an unspoken agreement had taken place. Spain wouldn't tell about Romano's crying and Romano would act better – probably – to his caretaker. Wishing this moment would be over, because Romano had never felt more awkward, he eyed his caretaker.

Spain had a serious expression for once, as if he was pondering something. Romano was slightly intrigued by that and he decided not to say a word.

"Romano, never think low of yourself. You're a strong nation with a lot of potential and I don't want you to see you crying because of that again, ok?"

"Because that shows I'm weak?" The young nation asked while tasting the salt of his tears in his mouth.

Spain widened his eyes and held Romano's shoulders lightly. "No, no, not because of that, Romano! Never because of that! You can cry as much as you want, but please," His hands brushed the tear stained cheeks "Let the next time be tears of happiness, mi querido Roma." As a response, Romano could only smile.

The smile that formed on his caretaker's lips had been one of the most beautiful Romano had ever seen. A similar smile would appear when he would be much older and they'd be together, be it holding hands, stealing kisses or taking part on more heated activities, and again Romano seemed to know that those smiles were only for him. Funny, Spain said once that the smile Romano had shown him that day had also been one of his most treasured ones.

Spain only smiled and started humming a song softly, while tucking the young nation to sleep. Romano vaguely recognized the song, it was one of Spain's songs directed to children, but instead of complaining about the fact he was no longer a child, Romano started to fall asleep.

"Hey, Romano, would you -"

Spain's phrase awakened him, albeit only lightly. He saw the conflicting expression on his caretaker's face and felt curiosity.

"What?"

Spain only smiled awkwardly and started to leave, saying it was nothing, before Romano surprised – both of them – by holding his hand and asking again. Spain's eyes widened, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Would you like me to say goodnight to you like your abuelo used to?"

Perhaps he was just too sleepy and too tired to care - that's what he told himself later, at least – so he smiled back to Spain and nodded.

"That would be nice…" His words were already mumbled by sleep. "But- but don't treat me like nonno… you're Spain, that's all."

The last thing he saw before sleeping was Spain smiling dearly at him and those soft words being spoken next to his ear.

"Buonanotte, mi querido Roma."

.

"Buonanotte, mio caro España."

For the first time, he had been the one to wish goodnight to Spain.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** 'Buonanotte' is Italian for 'good night' and as a side note, so is 'buenas noches' and 'boa noite' in Spanish and Portuguese respectively. I apologize for any language mistakes this story might have.

My first attempt at Spamano! This is my second favorite pairing of the series, but for some reason, I have some difficulty writing it, even though it has a similar formula to UsUk (tsunderexoblivious). Romano and Spain are just love! Not sure if this needs translation but, 'nonno' and 'abuelo' are Italian and Spanish, respectively, for grandfather. Also, Spain used the word 'querido' rather than 'caro' to say 'dear', since the only word he said in Italian at those moments would be goodnight. For my headcanon, only Spain can call Romano as 'Roma' and not be severely hurt – mostly.

Fieldings


End file.
